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A Yuletide Rubaiyat


By Pedro


‘’Tis the season to be jolly

Disapproval would be folly’

(to quote Tom Lehrer’s yuletide song)

And so, needs must, I kiss Aunt Dolly.


I know it is unkind and wrong

As I against her old maid’s pong

Do pucker up and hold my nose

And for another’s kiss do long.


Not Susie’s, Janet’s, Jill’s or Mo’s

Or daughters of those my mother knows,

Nor Cousin Freda, whom we call Fred,

Although with girlish charm she glows.


Their kiss leads not to marriage bed,

Though mother wants to have me wed,

They are not where my passions flow

Or where my secret thoughts have led.


Fear not, my love, for you must know

Their kisses ’neath the mistletoe

All compare as prick of holly

To yours, my dearest, sweet lip’d Joe.


© Copyright Pedro December 2017

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Inspired by Pedro's gift, I tried one myself.  It isn't as good as his, but it was fun putting together:


Christmas is again upon us

Where hope and joy exists.

So why is it I fret and fuss

And my sour mood persists?


Christmas is a time of joy,

All peoples hold it dear,

A time for every girl and boy

To fill their plates with cheer.


Girl and boy? Yes, that’s the thing;

For old men, joy comes naught.

When I was young, Santa’d bring

Gifts to warm my heart.


But now, alas, the excitement’s dim,

Few thrills wait ’round the tree.

Santa’s replaced with a tired hymn

No happiness there for me.


I sigh and settle in my chair

And long for yules past.

Now full of sadness I cannot bear

Yet I must stay steadfast.


And in that mood, lacking hope

I suddenly turn around

For something’s stirred me from my mope—

I’ve heard a ringing sound.


It’s our front bell, it rings again—

My mate, sprightly still, arises.

He shrieks, as he does, now and then,

When faced with happy surprises.


“Dad!” our son says, brushing off snow,

With him is his son.

“Gramps!” he yells, and then I know—

Christmas has begun.

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Swift and Tawdry compared to the marvelous two above. Still, it is Christmas.
Consider this as a pair of socks... or a handkerchief from an aged aunt.

There was a time
Tum te tum
When Christmas came
Tum te tum
My stocking was filled
Tum te tum
With presents inane

Years went by
Tum te tum
I found my flame
Tum te tum
And so at last
Tum te tum
'Santa' stuffed my ahhh... se

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My country now seems a sea of grievance, in which disagreement is always personal affront, so (blame it on Pedro, who called to me)...



Christmas Wish for the Donald


God--any variation or none--

rest ye merry readers every one

who strain to divine in glory

just the right story

for all who have suffered this year

to provide a full measure of cheer

without giving offense,

or at least with no malice prepense.


For every contoversy is personal,

astounding this bisexual

though at least no Moore

in the senate my death to procure.

In the line to pay for a calendar

showing me a right blasphemer,

I give the joyous greeting--

Happy Holidays at this meeting,

for you may be Parsi or Baha'i

or a flavor of not-ist, as I,

whose holy days I do not begudge

though the Donald has judged

that MAGA means Merry Christmas,

the mark of the true and a litmus.


I abjure no one's myth or story--

beatitudes seem salvatory--

but as life closes I wish

the Donald and his kith less pettish.

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Question for Pedro: I know the standard Rubaiyat follows the AABA format. Your work seems to take it to a delightful new level in which one verse's 'B' becomes the following verse's 'A'. Is there a specific name for the format or is it simply Rubaiyat On Steroids?

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Thank you Camy and Bi-janus for joining in.

Great pieces both but, Camy, I have to ask - just what colour handkerchiefs did you get from that aunt? Perhaps I give to much away by asking that question.

Bi-janus I like and agree with your main thrust, but I have the suspicion there are some references I have not picked up on. I shall have to study it some more.


Chris R : you credit me with unwarranted erudition. I blame Parker Owens series on Gay Authors for introducing me to the form. See https://www.gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/cider-press/ . I believe the term used for the linked form he and I have used is ‘Interlocked’. The interlocking appeals to my mathematical side. I think it makes the poem feel more complete especially with the B rhyme of the last verse linking back to the A of the first. (Not sure ‘complete’ quite the word I am looking for! Fulfilled perhaps?)


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5 hours ago, Pedro said:

Camy, I have to ask - just what colour handkerchiefs did you get from that aunt? Perhaps I give too much away by asking that question.

Navy blue, coyly folded in my back right hand pocket, apparently....

Shocked, I say! Shocked, and rolling on the floor mostly crying with laughter. Not to mention mortified that I had anything to do with 'Spring of Teal.' Also, red should come with a pre-booked hospital appointment.




There was a dude
who was pretty damn awesome
until his hanky
got dyed by mistake.

He was far from a prude
but lord when he saw some
he threw that hanky
in a bin by the lake.


You have experienced a small thread hijack.

Now, back to your regular programming on the AwesomeDude poetry channel. Great poetry for AwesomeDudes.

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